Chapter 25: 𝕴'𝖒 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕿𝖔 𝕬𝖇𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚....

𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘

☆☆☆

☆☆☆𝕹𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖆’𝖘 𝕲𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 11:35𝖕𝖒☆☆☆

She lay on her back, a limp figure atop the plain bed with her legs tangled in the sheets.

The room was dim, lit by the dying amber light slipping through the cracked curtains.

The fan spins slowly above her, humming through the heavy air.

The mattress dipped beneath her weight. Her marigold hair spread across the pillow like flame, a tangle of weariness and wildfire.

Her eyes were open but unfocused, staring into the ceiling.

She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her clothes. Her thoughts? Unruly.

All she could think about was Junior’s request.

> “Sneak me out of here…”

Her conscience pulsed in sync with the ticking wall clock. Junior’s words had wedged themselves deep, refusing to leave.

“That's reckless,” she murmured to the ceiling.

Her voice was hoarse, caught somewhere between a laugh and a confession.

“I'm literally dying... and He thinks I'm some superhero.”

She rolled onto her side, covering her face with her palm, groaning into the quiet.

“Stop messing with my head—what if I get caught”

☆☆☆🩸𝕱𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖍 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐: 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑🩸☆☆☆

She had said no—not harshly. But she had seen it…

The way his face had dropped, the light dimmed, like a candle caught in a sudden gust.

“I get it,” he had said, pretending not to care, but he did—he looked like she’d kicked him.

The weight of that moment had pressed into her ribcage like a dull stone but it was the right thing to do.

“Junior—I don't mean to disappoint you, but the right thing is—.” She tried to make him see reasons

“I totally understand Miss—maybe I hoped too hard.” He interjected with a small smile. “If you would excuse me....I will head in for the night”.

He rolled away in his wheelchair, leaving her behind.

Nevena inhaled—sharply. Her chest burning from how long she’d been holding her breath without realizing.

Her mind circled the thought like a hawk in a storm.

The shadow behind his words — the tired and disappointed face he wore to bed.

It’s wrong, she told herself, again and again.

He was a minor and She isn’t his guardian.

No signatures, no approvals. No clean way to justify taking him.

Not even to herself. What kind of adult would even consider it?.

☆☆☆🩸🩸𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙🩸🩸☆☆☆

“I definitely did the right thing” , she whispered to herself.

“I am sick, and have no reserved energy for the aftermath charade—moreover he’s not my responsibility.”

She clutched the thin blanket close, covering herself.

Yawning, she closed her eyes to sleep, but the wall clock ticked. Each second longer than the last, making it chip at her resolve.

The thought of him still there, still waiting, slumped in his hospital room—like furniture no one wanted, haunted her like an old lullaby singing off-key.

“Наистина ли ще лежиш тук, почивайки си в удобството на „нищо не правене“? {Are you really going to lie here, resting in the comfort of doing “nothing”?}” her rational voice barked in her language.

“Това не е мой проблем

{It’s not my problem},” she said into the dark.

As she said it, guilt itched like a rash on her ribs.

> “He’s not your problem,” the voice continued. “But weren’t you sometime in the past wishing to become someone’s problem?”

Her fingers curled into a weak fist, “Можеш ли просто да ме оставиш?

{Can you just leave me?}—this is totally different. Sneaking out a child is illegal.”

“Leaving a kid waiting after days of discharge isn't clean either?” The voice countered with a loud echo in her head.

She clicked her tongue and turned on her side, wincing.

“I'm not ready for any chaos.... saying no doesn’t make me a bad person—I'm only staying away from legal charges.”

“Maybe this isn’t about what's legal or not. It's about what's right for him—doing nothing will eventually hurts him more—”

“Ами ако това е единственият му шанс да събира миди {What if this is the only chance he has to go shell hunting?}” the voice was soothing and quieter this time.

Nevena made to turn deaf ear but her hands trembled slightly as she pulled her knees closer.

“It could be you, years ago? Wouldn’t you wish someone would break the rules and rescue you?” the voice added and went calm.

Nevena rolled onto the other side, she was glad the voice was gone but then,

The quietness of the room only made the storm in her chest louder.

She’d seen too much of herself in that kid. The silence and detachment.

But then Alexandria had broken the rules for her? And that moment—however reckless—changed everything

Her fingers dug into the sheets. She was angry—not at Junior, but at the world that made kids like them learn to ask for escape.

He hadn’t asked for much—just a taste of freedom. A shell—a memory, a friend.

Ironically—for once, someone needed her. Not as a pawn. Not as a statistic, but as a friend.

And she had said no.

“Stupid” she swore at herself.

Her fingers ran through her hair, curling into a fist near the roots.

The ceiling fan groaned above her, like it agreed.

The way he hesitated before asking for help, and how desperate he was when he finally did.

It was only a person with bruises in places nobody could see, could do that.

Her arm slid over her eyes. She wasn’t crying. Just… tired.

>“What if he falls into the hands of Alexandria's type, who play along for their own benefits” a stray thought hit her head.

“I can't let that happen”. Her breath hitched.

She knew too well how easily trust could be weaponized. Alexandria had taught her that.

He had played her to the point of her, giving out her kidney to him.

She turned her face to the nightstand, eyes landing on the appointment schedule.

Slowly she sat up, pressing a palm to her side as pain reminded her she was no hero.

But she could be a friend. One stupid, rebellious adult.

“God help me,” she muttered, standing—abruptly, barefoot. Her legs shaky, her heart steadier.

Her hand reached for the key on the dresser, then paused.

Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror. Pale—sick, yes.

But alive.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” she sighed.

She hadn’t meant to get attached with their encounter, but the reverse was the case now.

For the first time in a long while—after her break-up with Alexandria…

She wanted to live for someone other than herself.

With another deep exhalation, she grabbed her hoodie and whispered to her reflection:

“Alright, Junior. Let’s go find some damn shells.”

Outside, the wind picked up the dark atmosphere.

'Abduction' as she termed it, and shell hunting adventure was a stupid idea, but maybe it was the kind of stupid that gets someone saved.

☆☆☆𝕸𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑 12:15𝖆𝖒☆☆☆

“This is stupid,” Nevena whispered, but she didn’t stop.

Her lungs ached with every breath, her fear reminding her she wasn’t built for rebellion—not anymore.

But still, she moved.

The hospital's stairwell was dim, echoing with the occasional drip from some unseen pipe.

She paused at the second floor landing, fingers tightening around the railing as a fresh wave of fear stitched across her body.

“Third floor. Pediatrics.” she reminded herself.

When she reached Junior’s floor, she hesitated outside his room, eyes darting once down the hall. All clear.

The door was slightly ajar, and she eased it further.

Inside, he was awake—sitting up. The light above his bed was dimmed, painting his face in soft blue shadows.

His head turned when the door creaked open.

“…Miss Nevena?”

Standing in the doorway like a shadow from a dream, hood up, eyes bright with mischief and fear.

“Shhh.” She pressed a finger to her lips, moving toward him with soft, clumsy steps. “Get your things—I'm here to abduct you.”

For a moment, Junior didn’t move. He just blinked at her, stunned, mouth parted in disbelief.

“You serious?”

“No—yes” she stuttered, in more of a whisper.

“Come on, I'm delusional from fever and guilt. Let’s go before I regret this.”

Junior's sat up slowly, as if afraid it was his imagination. “You’re really doing it.”

“You want a signed contract?” she muttered, wincing. "Or we say that I'm just out of my mind"

The little boy let out a quiet, broken laugh—a sound full of gratitude and something else she couldn’t name.

He grabbed his bag from under the bed. It wasn’t much.

Next he swung into his wheelchair, already dressed—socks mismatched, hoodie zipped halfway.

She noticed how neatly everything was packed, like he’d already been waiting. Like part of him knew she would come back.

“You were ready,” she said, eyeing him.

“I believed you’d come—" he said, voice low.

Nevena swallowed thickly “Yeah, but why… I’m not exactly someone you would want to count on.”

Junior blinked up to her “No one’s ever proposed to be my friend before—but you did,”

Nevena paused. That hit deeper than she expected.

“Moreover—you assured me that you were different from everyone else.” he added, quieter now.

Her mouth opened. Closed but she was completely speechless. She quietly moved to the back of his wheelchair, fingers finding the handles.

“Ready?”

He nodded, anxiety shutting down his larynx—voice box—.

They slipped down the hallway like shadows stitched into the seams of night.

Past the empty common room, past the janitor’s closet, down the stairwell corridor.

“We could actually use the Elevator?”

Junior suggested as Nevena paused, swaying him into her arms.

“Stairs,” she said. “Cameras in the elevator. You think I didn’t plan this?”

Junior didn’t argue. He just leaned in on her and whispered, “Sorry for the trouble.”

Nevena nodded, her breath hitching with every step down the stairs.

Her body was giving out due to his weight and her sickness—but her heart, for once, was steady.

At the bottom, she carefully dropped him on the bench, pressing her back to the wall, and nearly slid to the floor.

Junior touched her arm gently. “You okay?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I will just grab your wheels—we’re almost out.”

She went up the flight again, carrying down his wheelchair and bag.

“You look like you’re going to faint—should we abort the mission?.”

“I've already come too far,” she grunted, helping him sit back on the wheelchair.

Together, they made it through the second floor dim hallway—past empty nurses' stations and sleeping patients.

Every sound felt amplified: the squeak of the wheelchair wheels, the groan of her breath, the click of the stairwell door.

Down the first floor corridor a silhouette loomed at the end of the corridor, cloaked in black attire.

“Where do you think you're taking him?” the hoarse voice grunted —familiar and terrifying.

“Bursted!” Junior whispered, blinking up to Nevena , whose grip only tightened around his wheelchair handle—teeth chattering.